


Ursula no Stephanie no Robert

by Neondragon54



Series: Superpowered!AU [1]
Category: Ruby Redfort Series - Lauren Child
Genre: I wrote this so I could get into the world of the superpower au, Other, This is oc heavy, i love her though, it is OC heavy, like its just my OCs backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28718181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neondragon54/pseuds/Neondragon54
Summary: Ursula was 14 and stupid. She couldn’t read and she couldn’t write. Her powers which could have been proved useful to certain individuals were deemed ultimately pointless if she couldn’t even read. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to as well, but the squiggles shifted and scrambled themselves on the paper and she had no idea what they even meant to say let alone decode it into English. It was fine, she thought, you don’t need English to read sheet music, where the dots stayed as dots and the accidentals where predictable and you don’t even need sheet music to play Jazz half the time. At least that’s what she told herself as snuck out of her window to creep to a jazz club and listen to the music.This is v v OC heavy
Series: Superpowered!AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2105271





	Ursula no Stephanie no Robert

Ursula was 14 and stupid. She couldn’t read and she couldn’t write. Her powers which could have been proved useful to certain individuals were deemed ultimately pointless if she couldn’t even read. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to as well, but the squiggles shifted and scrambled themselves on the paper and she had no idea what they even meant to say let alone decode it into English. It was fine, she thought, you don’t need English to read sheet music, where the dots stayed as dots and the accidentals where predictable and you don’t even need sheet music to play Jazz half the time. At least that’s what she told herself as snuck out of her window to creep to a jazz club and listen to the music.

Ursula was 18 and running away. Away from her home, and her family, and the doctors that declared her as dumb as bricks and everything bad with the world. She had a saxophone on her back and a rucksack at her side. She needed to get out of town anyway, where no one knows how dumb she was and to move to New Orleans. A place filled with Jazz and legends. She had stolen $30 dollars from her parents and boarded a grey hound bus to take her to the Big Easy. (A/n that’s such a dumb moniker for New Orleans I’m sorry.)

Ursula was 20 and falling in love, following a boy across the country. Sleeping in the car and busking on the streets. She was driving, naturally, she couldn’t read place names for the map although the symbols and squiggles managed to cement themselves in her brain. They would spend a good couple of days in each town, playing on the streets and drinking in the cheapest bar they could find. She didn’t need ID when she was with him. Just the complete utter knowledge that they would be together forever would do that to her.

Sometimes people would ask her if her powers where music based and when she told them it wasn’t the next question was always answered with ‘All the time in the world.’

21 and shot. The boy bleeding onto the creaking floorboards as she rang 911, the gun falling out of her hand. 21 and arrested before her first legal drink. 22 and found not guilty, her only crime of loving too strong, loving too much. 22 and homeless, no way to make money, her instrument being pawned off for food. 23 and lost.

Ursula was 24 and moving into witness protection after the boy’s brother and subsequent family found her. Family in the mafia sense, how hadn’t she noticed that god maybe she was dumb.

Stephanie was 25 and a battered old saxophone found its way to her. The horn dented, the resin buttons falling off, a neck strap that felt too comfortable around her neck. Stephanie was 25 and alive again.

Stephanie was 26, working as a telephone operator at a place that was probably a front to something, not that she cared anymore. It was a shitty job that paid her shitty rent, but she was allowed to play her saxophone in her cramped studio into the early morning with little complaint. Her neighbour was friendly enough, having introduced herself when Stephanie first moved in with a plate of cookies before rushing off. Twinford was a nice place, a weird place but a nice place and a hell of a lot more accepting and anonymous then small town Texas. She had even managed to sign up for some classes at the library for free.

27 and her neighbour crying her eyes out. Stephanie baked some cookies, grabbed a record, and pushed her record player against the shared wall as she set Glenn Miller swinging. Not the best but happy and popular enough as she plated the warm cookies and quickly knocked on the door. The door opened and revealed a matching studio apartment to hers. A mirror image, but utterly devoid of personality.

“I’m Robert,” She was used to giving the wrong name now, Stephanie wasn’t her choice and a man’s name was far more anonymous than Ursula. “Are you alright?” The Asian lady stood about a head taller than her, a bun tightly slicked back as she looked confused at the woman she had just let into her flat. “I made cookies anyway if you want them,”

“I like the music you’re listening to,” The woman wiped a few tears off her face.

“No, you don’t,” ~~Ursula, Stephanie~~ , Robert interrupted quickly, “Its real bad too… planned for what Jazz is meant to be, too… white.” She finally smiled and Robert took that as a gesture to continue, “But the melody is fairly happy compared to stuff I usually play, and it was already in because I have to practice for a concert next week.”

“I’ve heard you play the… Clarinet,” She guessed.

“Saxophone,” Robert corrected, placing the cookies on the side table next to the key bowl. The one that every flat had. No keys or junk in it though. “Best instrument in the world.” Another laugh, “I never got your name by the way.”

The lady paused like she had to think about her name, before finally settling. “I go by LB,”

And Robert smiled.

The next time their paths crossed was three months later, Robert had missed reauditions because no one had told her, and she couldn’t read the note. And she totally could have made rent as well; but some idiot had stolen her bike and that was more important. The only conceivable way was to sell her saxophone, but she would rather die then live without her instrument again. LB knocked on her door this time, holding some brownies and wearing a smile.

“What’s the matter?” She asked, placing the brownies on a cluttered table filled with sheet music and other music crap.

“Don’t have enough money to make rent,” Robert started, her mum had always said that a woman’s fatal flaw was being too coy with words and skirting around an issue, that might have been the one piece of good advice she had ever received from her parents.

“Do you have a job?” LB carefully asked, and Robert could see the mental steps she was taking not to burst out about how messy her flat was. “Could you get one?” She asked as Robert made no sound.

“Not many people want to hire a high school drop out that can’t read.”

“You can’t read.” LB looked puzzled as she moved to the sink, grabbing a glass and pouring a glass of water before passing it back to Robert, sinking to sit next to her.

“Not well.” Robert responded, staring straight ahead, “My mum said that with my powers I would have made a brilliant receptionist or PA, or HR manager,” She trailed off before throwing the glass at the floor, “She would be laughing her head off now,”

“What are your powers?” She was going to ignore the glass on the floor, and the sudden outburst.

“Time manipulation, don’t get excited its shit.” Robert immediately prefaced, “You know when five minutes last five days and then you have no idea where an hour goes, its that. I’m not how big the radius is because I don’t really use it, I’m also really good at organising meetings and shit fat lot of help if you can’t read though.” She laughed, wiping a few tears out of her face.

“But you can write,” LB most have been looking at the wall near her telephone, where the notes weren’t written in English but in squiggles she could understand and no one else apparently. No one else apart from LB. “How about I see if I can get you a job where I work, and I’ll lend you the 300 bucks for rent this month alright.”

Now her Mum did not raise her to be a charity case, her mum raised her to work and get a job and not drop out of school to play the saxophone. However, her dad was a layabout slob that did fuck all so she was taking a leaf out of his book and accepting LB’s help.

She nodded.

28 and working for a secret spy agency. She had passed the test with flying colours, not to be an actual spy but even ‘General Staff’ had to have a ‘how good at keeping state secrets test’ the answer is pretty good if you cannot actually read the state secrets. LB had set her up in an office near her, with a nice desk and enough paperclips and staplers to frighten a magnet, and she happily settled into the role of ‘General Staff’ which was whatever LB didn’t want or didn’t have time to do.

She gave a lot of orientation talks and a lot of tours to high members of various governments.

“You know LB,” They where in LB’s office, drinking white wine because ‘you are too clumsy to be drinking red in here’ “You never told me what your powers are,”

“Light manipulation, can change the frequency of light waves which means colours look a bit weird around me.”

“Have you ever thought of painting your toenails.” Robert asked and they burst out laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to post this somewhere so here it is. Its longer then any single chapter for The Smarty and The Speedster but here it is.


End file.
